


The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

by Heyzues_Christoe



Series: Entropy [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dark, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyzues_Christoe/pseuds/Heyzues_Christoe
Summary: The royal children were dead. Easily identifiable blame.Our retaliation, less so.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey nerds, this was just an interesting concept I'd thought of. I really wanted to try my hand at writing, even though most friends of mine would call this "cringy." Have an obligatory "please leave a review"
> 
> aight, peace out.

You, just a teen, tending to the crops. You flailed the crops, hoping they would have enough substance for Mom to make her delicious honey bread. It'd been a long day, but a good one. The neighbors handling their own, mothers juggling their children and making dinner, those children easily escaping, fathers out with children. Your own had passed, but you'd been young. It hadn't bothered you too much.

A figure.

You see them, white fur and tall form, coming down from the mountain. Something small in their hands, limp against their chest.

They see you, and stop briefly. Your heart skips a beat. Monsters had skirmished with humans before. You held up your flail, ready to defend yourself. You wouldn't be like him.

The monster observes you, a small child, hunched slightly, arms outstretched so as to not bludgeon yourself, elbows against your sweater.

It chuckles, even as the last comes out a choked sob. It considers the object in its hands, and continues.

You watch it as it continues on the road, noticing something as it goes on behind you, you see the object in its hands, and catch your breath.

 _A kid_.

The villagers notice too.

"NO!!"

A women screams. You direct yourself and see her on her knees. Crying and pointing at the body. She had never believed her little angel had died.

The initial shock begins to fade. Children ushered inside hurriedly, except one, whose mother had no husband to protect her children.

You.

The figure stands, trembling, a semicircle formed around it, tools pointed on this monster who had killed one of their own. 

It twitches, hands struggling to hold the child in its hands. It looks around, noticing the buttercups. The twitching intensifies, like it's fighting to control itself.

"On your knees." The creature does not move.

"On your knees!" The creature turns towards the buttercups.

"Get on the ground before we do it for you!" The creature begins to walk.

It doesn't make it one step before the reaction. The men jab.

The creature continues walking, even as rocks pelt it, and weapons puncture it.

Laying the body down, It begins its walk back as it came, turning at you and smiling sadly, continuing forwards, even as bits of dust fleck off.

You begin to cry. The men offer condolences, lamenting a child being present.

Your mom opens the door for you, laying you down, sorry to see your mood having fallen after a good morning.

Your sleep comes fitful, no dreams but emotions worse than any nightmare.

You awake, a monotonous thudding faint outside your house. Your head clears, your foot bumping at the plate of honey bread on the floor.

Memories come back, you suppress the crying, not awake enough to deal with it.

Stepping outside, you notice a figure approaching through the fog.

A line of figures behind him.

Another one.

More and more come, more are heard in the distance, even as the figure in front stops. Villagers are exiting homes, holding weapons.

Women at the door, one hand covering their mouth in fear, the other blocking the eyes of their children.

You, grabbing the flail, praying.

You're not ready for this, and it shows. The shortest man there towers over you, you still wear a sweater, but there is no mercy.

The sorcerer in your village, a pale old man, casts light over your battlefield.

Your mother starts to cry as the royal armor comes into view.

The king walks forward, trident pointed at you. Your soul comes out, of his accord. Monsters had had skirmishes with humans before. You readied your flail. You would  **not** be like him.

The king summons a ball of flame. You can feel it on your soul, threatening to melt it.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The heat is gone, a thinner, but similar figure blocking the way.

"THAT'S A CHILD BEHIND YOU. Is this really the path you want? Is this what our children would've-"

He raises his hand and slaps her aside. Her pleading cut short.

You run.

You don't make it one step before the reaction.

You can't even breathe, even to cry.

You can feel the skin crackling, feel the bones turning to sludge.

" **You pathetic humans see this child, and do not see anything related to mine. I will kill you all.** " 

"Asgore, this doesn't bring honor to their memory! There are women and children here!"

The king surveys the village, the cowering men, the women and children. He turns to his wife.

"I see only monsters here."

You were like him after all. You had failed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just part 1 of world building. This is a long project coming together.


End file.
